That Girl with Blue Eyes
by X-Shadow.of.Darkness-X
Summary: You're about to take another sip of Coke, but as you raise the glass to your lips, her eyes meet yours, and your heart seems to suddenly stop. Her eyes are a brilliant blue, holding depths of emotion, as though all her feelings could be conveyed in a single glance. AU Brittana


**That Girl with Blue Eyes**

You drag your hairbrush through your hair, wrestling against the few small tangles, doing your best to ignore the sound of raised voices echoing around the house from downstairs. You don't know if your parents know their children can hear them arguing, or just don't care.

Setting the brush back down on the small dresser in the corner of your room, you stoop and snatch up your purse, looping the strap over your shoulder and tucking your sketchbook under your arm. Slipping your phone into your back pocket, you cross the room, shutting the door behind you with a snap.

As you make your way to the top of the stairs, you glance into your little brother's room. The light is off, the curtains drawn, despite it being a bright and sunny day outside. You stop and venture inside, stepping carefully over the small piles of toys scattered across the floor.

Now that your eyes have adjusted to the gloom, you can see Leo, his small body laid flat on his front on his bed, hands covering his ears, trying to block out the sound of the fighting downstairs. Sadly, you reach out, brushing your fingers lightly through his hair. Leo makes no motion, staying completely still, and as you watch him, you can see tears streaming down his small face.

With a small sigh, you turn and leave his bedroom, pulling the door shut behind you, helping deaden the noise somewhat. _It isn't fair_, you think to yourself as you descend the stairs. _He shouldn't have to hear them argue all the time._

The shouting is almost deafening on the bottom floor of the house. You cross the small entrance hall quickly, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire. You're already late meeting Sam and Quinn, and you don't particularly feel like acting as the peacekeeper right now. It's only two weeks into the summer holidays, and already you're sick of mediating the arguments between your parents. This time, you decide, they can work it out themselves.

As soon as the door shuts behind you, you lean against it, turning your face skywards, eyes closed, filling your lungs with the fresh summer air. You open your eyes, looking up into the vast infinite blue of the sky above, feeling instantly calm, your worries about your parents washing away with each breath you take.

You glance at your car in the drive, but decide against using it, walking along the sidewalk instead. As you walk, your mind wanders, as it so often does these days, back to your parents.

You can't remember when their fighting began in earnest, but they had been arguing privately for years now, just over a decade, in fact. You can remember nights when you sat at the bottom of the stairs, listening to your parents argue in the front room. Now, it was a part of every day life in the Lopez household, and you are the one stuck in the middle of it.

Their arguments seem so trivial, as well. Two days ago, they were screaming at each other because your father had finished the last of the milk. That argument lasted for almost half an hour before you gave up, running down to the 24/7 store a couple of blocks away and buying a new carton yourself. Easy. Problem solved.

Art is your only escape. You can lose yourself for hours in the swirls of lines and colors, and the walls of your bedroom are adorned with your various sketches and paintings. You take your sketchbook wherever you go, ready to capture a scene on a page. Most girls carry makeup in their purses; you carry pencils.

Your feet beat the familiar path along the sidewalk, heading into the centre of Lima. The advantage of living in such a small town is that everywhere is within walking distance. Every so often, a car roars past, but you are too lost in your own thoughts to notice.

"Santana!"

You look up in surprise to see the small cafe a few yards ahead, with two people sat outside, waving at you. You smile and wave back as you recognize the two blondes. You quicken your pace and join them at their table.

"Sorry I'm late." you say as you sit down, depositing your purse and sketchbook on the table. Quinn shakes her head.

"No, it's fine, we haven't been here that long."

You nod, and pretend to peruse the menu, even though it only consists of about four items. You raise your hand, catching the attention of a nearby waitress and place your order, a large Coke, no ice, please. You wait as Sam and Quinn place their orders and put the menu back down on the table.

In moments, the waitress is back, three large glasses balanced on a small tray with an expertise that comes from endless repetition. You mutter your thanks and take a small sip, sighing in gratitude as the cool liquid slips down your throat.

"I don't know how you can drink it like that, with no ice." Sam says, swishing the ice cubes in his own glass around with the straw.

"I don't know how you can drink it like _that_." you reply, nodding at his glass. "The ice melts and dilutes it. It tastes horrible if you don't drink it quickly."

Sam frowns, then shrugs.

"I never noticed that."

You say nothing, but take another sip of your drink and stare out over the scene before you. A large fountain dominates the centre of the small square, the sunlight reflecting off the pouring water, throwing dancing spots of light across the walls and ground around it. Benches are situated around the fountain, holding a mixture of couples, students and elderly people. A crossing halts the flow of the almost non-existent traffic, allowing a small group of pedestrians to cross the road.

"Santana?"

You shake your head, realizing that you must have zoned out for a moment.

"Sorry?"

Quinn gives you a strange look, but says, "I said, I can't believe we only have one year of high school left."

"I know," you agree, taking another small sip of Coke. "it only seems like yesterday we were walking down those corridors for the first time."

"We're on the home stretch now." Sam says. "We've made it three years without a pregnancy or a drug habit, I'll be damned if I break that streak now."

Quinn chuckles into her Coke.

"Do you foresee a pregnancy or drug habit in this coming year, Sam?"

Sam shrugs.

"A lot can happen in a year."

As Sam and Quinn joke between themselves, your mind wanders back over the last three years. You've managed to make it to your senior year in relative anonymity. Quinn was the head cheerleader, and Sam was gunning for the quarterback position on the football team, but you had kept to yourself as much as possible. You had enough drama at home. Quinn had badgered you for almost an entire year to join the cheerleading squad, to help bring you out of your shell, but you had stoically refused until she had finally stopped asking. Sure, you weren't top of the food chain, like Quinn and Sam, but you weren't at the bottom either, just comfortably in the middle.

"You know Miss P is gonna be on us all year about college, don't you?" Sam says. Quinn nods.

"Yeah, I know. To be honest, I don't even know what I want to do after college."

"Me either." Sam admits. "If I could play football professionally, that'd be really cool. But I know you've got to be better than the best for that."

"Then you have to believe that you are." Quinn says simply. You smile slightly to yourself. This is the real Quinn, a kind, compassionate, supportive person, not the Quinn she presents to everyone else, that of an ice-cold bitch.

"What about you, San?" Sam asks you.

Your smile widens. You know exactly what you want to do.

"An art course somewhere. I'd love to go into something creative. Graphic design, maybe."

Sam and Quinn nod.

"That actually sounds really cool." Quinn says.

You don't reply, picking up your glass and taking a large mouthful of the liquid within, looking out over the square again. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Quinn pick up your sketchbook and begin leafing through the pages.

"These are amazing." Quinn says, her eyes roving over a drawing of a waterfall, hidden away in the woodland about a mile and a half from your house. You glance over, but don't comment, letting her peruse through your sketches at her leisure.

As you look out across the square yet again, your attention is drawn to a tall, lithe girl standing on the opposite side of the road to you, waiting for the lights to halt the flow of traffic, blonde hair tied at the back of her head. As your eyes roam across her slim, athletic figure, the lights change, and she starts to cross the road.

You're about to take another sip of Coke, but as you raise the glass to your lips, her eyes meet yours, and your heart seems to suddenly stop. Her eyes are a brilliant blue, holding depths of emotion, as though all her feelings could be conveyed in a single glance. The world seems to darken around her, though her eyes remain bright, as though the very light of the world was radiating out of them. You become aware that you've stopped breathing, and suck in a hasty breath.

You try to take a mouthful of Coke, but you miss your mouth, slopping your drink down your front. You flush a brilliant shade of red, snatching at serviettes, trying to mop up the liquid and hide your embarrassment at the same time.

The girl laughs, though not maliciously, rather, as though she were mildly amused by the effect she had had on you. Her laugh is soft, lilting, musical. You soak up the excess liquid as best you can, discarding the sodden serviettes, and look up in expectation, hoping to get another look at those amazing, beautiful eyes, but the girl is already gone, her back retreating down the street away from you.

Disappointed, you turn back to Sam and Quinn, both of whom are eyeing you curiously.

"Are you okay?" Quinn asks, looking at your shirt, which is starting to stick to you.

"Yeah, fine." you nod, trying to appear nonchalant. "Just missed my mouth, is all."

Quinn arches an eyebrow, but thankfully doesn't press the matter.

"All right." she says, handing you your sketchbook back. "Do you reckon you could draw us?" she asks, gesturing between herself and Sam.

"Sure." you agree, digging in your purse for a pencil. Retrieving one, you flip to a blank page, as Quinn and Sam wrap their arms around each other, grinning widely at you, with all their teenage joy, unhampered by the burdens of home life that dog you everywhere you go.

You examine them for a moment before setting pencil to paper, but as you draw, your mind is fixed firmly on one thing.

That girl with blue eyes.


End file.
